


Hush

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-05
Updated: 2006-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: In our minds, we sleep with those we want - regardless of the bodies next to us. In the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, Severus Snape does exactly that as he helps Narcissa and Draco Malfoy flee to supposed safety.





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for hp_springsmut, requested by SnowflakeStar. Thanks to RedDwarfer for the beta.   


* * *

"Hush, Narcissa, hush!" I manage through tightly clenched lips, "the performance you put on for my benefit is loud enough for your husband to hear all the way in Azkaban."

In the milky grey morning air, I can see the glint of her teeth, small and sharp, like a predator's.

"You cannot think I still merit a husband, Severus, a husband imprisoned for loyalty, even as I run and my son hides?"  
  
She does not refute the accusations of show, and wails as I sink inside her once more. The predator mouth clamps down on my shoulder, the dull ache leeching slowly into my flesh, and I idly wonder whether there'll be much blood. 

* * *

  
"Don't, don't," I mutter, pushing aside the greedy questing hands, but the slick, hot mouth still has me. My body is overcome with shivers, and I turn my shamed face away.  
  
"Don't do this. Don't _thank_ me like this!"  
  
She spits, lifting up her silvery head, and it takes all my self-control not to grab fistfuls of the heavy strands and pull.  
  
"What, pray tell, have I got to thank you for?" a finger slips under my chin, and I let it tilt my face towards hers, "this hovel, perhaps? The pile of straw from last night or the cozy cave from the night before? For not being able to tell me in what caves, holes or bear dens my son sleeps? If he sleeps?"  
  
I breathe in, once, twice, willing away the weakness in my hips.  
  
"My son has got nothing, and I - well, I've got this, haven't I? I'd wager it is far above your usual fare."  
  
"Narcissa," I grunt, pushing her head back down, "do shut up."  
  


* * *

  
"How many more nights," she exhales, swinging a sweaty thigh over me, and withdraws to her spot under the fir tree boughs. Old needles flutter down like snowflakes, turning and twisting in the thick air, and tangle themselves in our packs.  
  
"How much more of this before you are satisfied and leave me in some rotting hut with bats nesting in the rafters? How much more of this before we’ve run far enough?"  
  
A root digs into my back, insistent and harsh, but if I move, our bodies will touch, sticky with fluids, and I may not have the strength to pry them apart.  
  
"I won’t leave you. I swore an oath, Narcissa, and I will see it fulfilled."  
  
"I know you do not do this for me. This running, this plotting, you do it because you must, not because you wish to help me. But Severus, tell me, please, when do we stop? When do I get to see my son?"  
  
"We are going to him now, Narcissa. You know this as well as I. We dare not Apparate, we mustn’t fly, and we certainly cannot Floo! Muggle vehicles cannot be obtained without revealing our present location."  
  
"And so we travel by archaic means, even by Muggle standards, twisted paths in twisted woods, routes unused for centuries…" Moist fingers have found their way down my stomach and tug at the exhausted flesh there, "promise me that you tell the truth!"  
  
I need a bath, a drink, a bed.  
  
"Promise me you will take Draco and I away, please," the other hand slides lower still, cupping, squeezing, "promise me we will be safe!"  
  
"As safe as I can make you," I tell her, solemnly. She is right, I do not do this for her, but any hands will do so long as they aren’t my own.  
  


* * *

  
"Of course not!" she attempts at indignant, but manages only apprehensive, "why would I have ever rowed a boat before?"  
  
The river is cool and sweet before us, but I can already feel the strain of the oars in my shoulders, although our packs are the boat’s only cargo at present.  
  
"I will do it myself, then," I say, undoing my shirt, "but not yet."  
  
It’s not a bath, but it will do, the current licking at my dirtiest nooks. I dunk my head in, and count out the seconds as I hold my breath. When I come up, snorting and shaking, her small, firm arse is only inches away as she wades into the water. Her back and hips are narrow, her legs muscled, it’s only her hair that’s all wrong, too long and full of tangled curls. Still, after she wets it down like I did, it’s almost acceptable.  
  
She lets me bend her over the little dock and take her from behind. She is blissfully quiet for a change, and it is I who has to squeeze my lips together, lest I call out a name that I know won't be hers.  
  


* * *

  
We enter the village at nightfall, whether as a pair of hikers or beggars, I cannot say. We must look respectable enough, as the owner of the bed and breakfast lets us in without question, and Draco’s hands fly around his mother the second he unlocks the door. After they’ve had enough of clucking, grasping and chattering, Narcissa goes to draw a proper bath. Draco clasps my proffered hand.  
  
"I was afraid, Professor… er, I mean, Severus," he says honestly, "I was so afraid that something would happen to Mother and you, that you wouldn’t make it, that the Dark Lord’s people would find me first… Thank you for looking after her, for…" he trails off, squeezing my fingers once again.  
  
Thankfully, my fingers do not possess the ability to stiffen.  
  
"Don’t say that yet," I suggest, although I am fairly certain that I will be able to deliver on my promises to Narcissa.  
  
"I know, I know," Draco relents, "we’ve still got quite a walk tomorrow, haven’t we?"  
  
Tomorrow night is when the Norwegian Muggle ship leaves port, and I plan for us to be on it.  
  


* * *

  
Abandoning my bed, I bravely reach for her across the coverlet, pushing aside the pillows that bar my way. Her hair is bound back for the night, and her breasts are small enough; a woman of her former station would have employed a wet nurse for her son. Blotches of uneven light come in through the porthole, swaying across the floor and staining the carpeting.  
  
"Stop!" she whispers hotly, "Stop, please, Draco will hear!"  
  
Draco snores softly in his own bed, covers drawn tightly up to his narrow chin.  
  
"He will not, not if we are quiet, I’ll be silent, I’ll be- " I babble, trying to look only at her.  
  
"These walls are too thin," she hisses, "these beds are too hard, this cabin is too small," but her nipples are pushing up through the sheet like two little dark arrow points. I shut my eyes and press on, grabbing a hold of sheet and nipple both.

"I don’t want my son to hear this, I don’t, I don’t," she pants as I twist, and spreads her thighs. I press my hand over her open lips and feel the sharp predator fangs on my palm.

"He won’t hear," I promise. Leaning in close and thrusting hard, I allow myself to remember.   
  
__  
"Cold," Draco whimpers, pressed against the stone.  
  
"Give me a minute and you won’t be," the other one chuckles, "move your legs wider." 

_I can’t see Draco’s face, only the short blond strands above his shoulders. I am not close enough to notice gooseflesh, but I imagine it must be there; Draco is shivering, his hands scraping against the wall. His discarded clothing is under Blaise Zabini’s knees, Blaise’s large hands are spreading apart those firm, pale buttocks...I do not descend on them in fury; I don’t assign detentions, I do not do anything other than watch from behind the corner, pressing myself into a tapestry. Draco makes a small mewling noise that hasn’t got a thing to do with the temperature and everything to do with Blaise’s tongue dancing little circles up and down his crack. "Tickles – almost – oh, don’t stop now!" Blaise doesn’t; a hand snakes around Draco’s sharp hips while the other is still holding his arse splayed apart. Draco jerks; I can see his shoulder blades twitching, his arms tensing up. Blaise’s hand is blocking my view, but I know what’s behind it, I can almost feel the hot tongue pressing into Draco’s arsehole and the fingers wrapping around his hard cock._  
Blaise’s head moves slightly forward, back, forward, his tongue slicking the way in; I am afraid to breathe, almost afraid to look, but I cannot stop. I cannot stop, I cannot run, for surely they will hear me, and what must I do then? I blink once, twice, but the boys don’t vanish; when I open my eyes a third time, Blaise is standing up. His hands are no longer on Draco, they are on the buttons of his trousers. He doesn’t take off a single scrap of clothing, freeing nothing but his prick, and I am glad. I don’t want to peek at the athletic, muscled body underneath; in robes, all boys are alike, in robes that could almost be–   
  
My trousers are unbuttoned, my hand works on my cock, and Blaise works on Draco as if he is trying to fuck him into the stone.   
  
"Uuh," Draco pants, grinding into the wall, "oh, oh –   
  
-Severus!"  
  
When it happens, I can hardly believe it.  
  
"Severus," the woman under me moans, "Severus, oh... oh!"   
  
A hot blush is spreading through her bewildered face, visible even in the semi-darkness, and she brings up a quick hand to cover it.   
  
"I-," Narcissa begins, and I cannot help but do what needs to be done. I remove her hand from her face, bend down and kiss her.  
  


* * *

  
"Mother needs you," Draco confides the day before we are due to arrive, "you’ve done so much for her already. I doubt even Father could do more."  
  
He wrinkles his forehead, rubbing at it with a pale hand.  
  
"That’s between you and Father, what you’ve done on his behalf and not. I doubt any of this would have pleased him. Still, she needs you. I need you. You cannot leave."

"Leave?" I laugh; the boy knows I bed with his mother, and yet my leaving worries him more.

"I cannot leave, Draco. You know this. We are traitors, we three, no matter the judge. Where would I go?"  
  
"You know they’ll find us. They will find us, and all this will have been for nothing. They’ve got Aunt Bella, she can find mother in a dark room, blindfolded. And _they_ , they’ve got Potter... They’ll find us, and then Mother will need you even more."  
  
"And so will you."  
  
He nods, but says nothing, as I assure him he’s safe.  
  
"I’ve taken you against your will," I say, willing myself to smile, "you are captives, both Narcissa and you. I’ve taken your wands. I’ve turned traitor and forced you with me. _If_ they find us."  
  
"You would do that? For Mother? " he grabs both my hands in his, "Severus… You love her that much? I didn’t think..."  
  
"Hush, Draco, hush," I manage through tightly clenched lips.   



End file.
